Unwitting
by tee.tee.why.el
Summary: Regulus Arcturus Black is turning sixteen, but new beginnings aren't always for the best - just ask his family.


I haven't posted much in a while, so here's a one-shot I wrote on a whim. It's slightly AU, but... not really? Hope you guys enjoy it, and please R&R!

* * *

**Unwitting**

Raindrops beat against the enormous windows, creating an odd backdrop for the happy scene occurring before it. An enormous crowd of haughty-looking wizards and witches surrounded a rather small boy, who stood at the bottom of the grand staircase. They patted him on the back, uttering solemn congratulations that, oddly enough, sounded more like "glad you made it this far" than excited "Happy Birthday!"s. Still, he forgave them their tones. In this day and age, they were all glad everyone else was alive. Just then, the Birthday Boy caught his father's eye. Orion Black, normally stoic enough to be mistaken for one of the statues, grinned broadly at his son and threw him a hearty wink. Regulus blinked. Was this a dream?

It had to be a dream. Everything was completely wrong. If this weren't a dream, Regulus's parents would not have their arms around each other, beaming at him. If this _were _a dream, Sirius would be here, congratulating him with the rest. If this weren't a dream, no one would be proud of Regulus simply for turning sixteen-years-old.

Sixteen.

"_Sixteen is a big year, son," Orion boomed in his loud bass. "A lot happens when you're sixteen."_

"_It's true, darling," Walburga added from behind her husband. The curtain bordering the open window behind the couple billowed suddenly from an enormous gust of wind, and Regulus's mum turned to close it. She turned back to him, "Your father and I were engaged when I was sixteen." Her chapped lips turned up in a smile, but her eyes stayed dead. _

_Orion nodded his head solemnly. "And this sixteenth year for you, my boy," he rumbled, "shall be one most memorable, as well." Orion sat at his desk, staring at Regulus impassively; daring him to ask the question he knew was on his mind._

_What did you do for Sirius's birthday?_

"Congratulations, Regulus," a quiet voice murmured to his right. His cousin, Bellatrix, smirked at him from her position against the stone wall. 'Walk with me?' she mouthed, a grin still toying about her full lips. Regulus glanced about, but everyone seemed to be suddenly absorbed in their conversations. He shrugged, nodded, and followed her out to the garden, taking care not to tread on the hem of her robe.

"How does it feel?" she asked, abruptly turning to face him. The moon struck her jet-black hair, making it glisten white; she looked so much older. "Does the sixteen-year-old Regulus feel any different than the fifteen-year-old one did?" She searched his confused face for an answer, never blinking. Regulus couldn't see how to respond. Bellatrix wanted a profound response, he knew. She was waiting for him to be the brilliant mind that Sirius had been from a young age.

Everyone had known Sirius would go on to do great things. Regulus remembered when the two of them were three and four -- he being the younger -- Sirius had somehow managed to Transfigure his plate of broccoli to a mound of Honeyduke's finest chocolate bars. From then on, Sirius could do no wrong in anyone's eyes. Sirius was the better flyer, the charismatic aristocrat, the more intelligent son. His family's hopes for him had been high. Sure, Sirius had had a small disobedience problem, but that was guaranteed to disappear with time, especially after he had spent a year under the watchful supervision of the Slytherin Head.

But Sirius had not been sorted into Slytherin, but Gryffindor instead, and from there, everything spiraled downwards. When Sirius returned, his parents found him even more disobedient than he had left them, and they tried to unenroll him from Hogwarts to no avail. Sirius ran away from home the summer of last year to the delight of his family and to the utter despair of his younger brother.

Regulus had missed Sirius, his role model for so long. Bellatrix's question reverberated in his mind: _"How does it feel? Does the sixteen Regulus feel any different?"_

"No," he whispered more to himself than her, but she didn't notice. Regulus still missed Sirius; he still loved him. "Nothing's changed, Bellatrix," he repeated, glancing at her. "Was it supposed to?"

"Curious," she responded, looking out over the budding flowers. "Very curious."

Silence enveloped the pair, each caught up in their own thoughts. The sounds of clinking silverware drifted out onto the balcony, but Regulus wasn't surprised his family had started without him. Yes, it was his birthday, but it was their party.

"My parents gave me a tutor on my sixteenth birthday," Bellatrix confessed to the roses and violets and tulips. "My dueling skills weren't up to par, apparently." It might have been his imagination, but Regulus thought he could sense a certain joy beneath her disgust. It made no sense to him, so he disregarded it. "They were looking out for my best interests," she explained to him.

"Yes, of course," he agreed, not really knowing what he was agreeing to, "they love you." She didn't respond, and Regulus got the sinking suspicion that he had let her down in some way. Silence reigned again, but this one was not as comfortable as the last. Bellatrix seemed on edge, now, but Regulus could not fathom the reason why.

"Happy birthday, cousin," she finally said, turning to look him in the eye. Her heavy-lidded irises seemed to be searching his gray ones for the same strength she always carried with her. She wanted him to be courageous, bold. She wanted him to be a Black.

Did he know how to do that?

"Thank you, cousin," Regulus responded solemnly, masking his inner turmoil. Bellatrix shot him a small, cautious smile before heading back into the manor, towards her husband, her swollen belly making her gait more like a waddle. Just as she reached the threshold, the dinnertime ambiance sounding from within the mansion stopped, and all was silent. Someone finally whispered something to Bellatrix, who had frozen in the doorway, and she turned to face her cousin.

"Regulus, you have mail." Her lips puckered in a scowl. "It's from Sirius."

"What does it say?" He rushed into the manor, frantically scanning the room for a telltale piece of parchment.

"Not now, son," Orion scowled from his seat as head of the dinner table. The rest of the family raised their eyebrows and nodded in assent; now was not the right time. The letter from the disinherited rogue could wait until much, much later. Regulus's face fell, but he said nothing. _At least I know now that he remembered, _he comforted himself morosely.

At the corner of his eye Regulus thought he saw Bellatrix throw a significant glance to his father, who nodded once in recognition. This was turning out to be a rather odd birthday.

"Boy, I think it's time," Orion said, pushing his chair out from beneath the table. "Follow me." Without another word, he turned on his heel and entered the adjacent study, leaving Regulus to scamper after him and the rest of the family seated at the table, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. "Sit," he ordered. Regulus obeyed, his confusion mounting.

"It's high time you heard about my sixteenth birthday," Orion mused, pressing his fingertips together. Regulus could barely see his father's head above the feet that Orion had propped atop his desk, but he tried to listen all the same. "I ask that you do not make assumptions until my story is through," he commanded, shooting him a glare. Regulus nodded in consent, and the story began.

"I did not spend my sixteenth birthday with my parents, as is custom. Instead, I spent the day in the company of my best mates, on an island. One of them said that he'd been there many times before. On that day, that friend, three years my senior, taught me more powerful magic than I had dreamed possible. He was a sight to behold, Regulus. He is the mightiest wizard that will ever exist in this world, and a close friend of mine. This, son, is Lord Voldemort."

The back door to the study swung open seemingly of its own accord, and a cloaked figure drifted through the threshold, closely followed by Uncle Rodolphus. The cloaked figure reminded Regulus violently of a Dementor, and he shrank back slightly in his seat. But then the Dark Lord pushed back his hood, and the notion of a Dementor was gone with the wind.

He was a pale white, his skin resembling snakeskin more than human flesh, having a chalky, clammy aura exuding from its pores. His head was completely bald, giving him an otherworldly appearance, and his fingers, stretched out to shake Regulus's hand, were too long, too skinny, to be natural. But his eyes – his eyes were a deep, blood red, and the look of friendship about them did nothing to soothe Regulus's nerves.

"I do hope you are prepared," he remarked, looking Regulus over in one quick glance. Regulus was taken aback; his voice was nothing like he'd feared. It was almost _normal _and didn't seem to fit its body.

"'Prepared'?" Regulus swallowed.

"Yes, prepared. I don't do this to just anyone, you know."

"What are you off about-"

"He's ready, My Lord," Orion interjected, glaring at his son. Regulus was getting a bit frightened, now. His father had never been one to subject himself to the wills of another, and yet here he was, calling this stranger his Lord.

"Yes, well, I trust you, Orion," the Dark Lord responded, but he cast a skeptical glance at Regulus.

"You, Regulus Arcturus Black," Lord Voldemort boomed, "are about to be initiated into the highest of all honors. This honor comes at a steep price. You must be willing to do whatever it takes to further our purpose. You must put us before yourself. You will sacrifice whatever is necessary to save us. Your will no longer exists. _There is no going back_."

Regulus turned to face his father with fear in his eyes, but "_Look at me when I am talking to you, boy_!" and he had to turn back.

"Roll up your sleeve," the Dark Lord commanded, his red eyes glistening with manic anticipation. Regulus did as he was told, fingers trembling, breathing staggered. The voice that had seemed so normal had transformed into the snakelike hiss Regulus had anticipated from the beginning. Lord Voldemort had altered his voice to trick Regulus.

He had _used _him.

As that thought hit him, he was swamped by a storm of pain that radiated from a singular point on his lower forearm. He screamed for an eternity as small golden stars danced before his eyes. "It hurts…" he murmured. "It hurts…" The sharp, shooting stabs began to ebb, but then they redoubled their efforts, and he bent over in an attempt to soothe himself. He screamed again and again and again and again and again. He had one last, final realization before surrendering to the overwhelming darkness:

They had _all _used Regulus.

* * *

Inside the main entranceway of the Black family manor, everyone was preparing to leave. Walburga flitted from relative to relative, happiness radiating from her. She was overjoyed at the momentous occasion she knew was happening right next to her, in the study. The ear-splitting shouts of torture were not even enough to quell her ecstasy.

Bellatrix buttoned up her coat and pecked her aunt on the cheek. "Tell Regulus to quit being such a baby," she chuckled feebly, "the pain's not that bad." Walburga let out a tinkling laugh then moved on to the next family member, leaving Bellatrix to see herself out.

As she passed the fireplace in the corner, Bellatrix stopped and fished about in her coat pocket. Pulling out a tiny ball of parchment, she glanced furtively around to make sure no one was looking. The note was short.

_Regulus,_

_Everything is not how it seems. _

_Be safe,_

_Sirius_

Bellatrix scoffed in disgust before tossing the scrap of paper into the flames. "Happy birthday, cousin," she whispered, watching, as Sirius's letter burned to ash before her eyes.


End file.
